Cave Rave

[noonelaughed]

It seems like it's been forever since Chris has been to a real, proper blowout. There aren't exactly any clubs on the island for this sort of thing, and the last time Chris had any kind of party in his own hut, it'd taken him fuckin' ages to properly sort out the damage. As it was, he was still finding brownie crumbs and other people's coats when

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[lucked]

Sadly, the first thing that strikes Claire is the fact that she's got a laundry list of wishes she'd make. For people to forget that she's a freak, for one. Or maybe to stop being a freak altogether. To be normal, not to be the one person who heals time after time, because the problem with having one's skin sew itself right back together is that then other people forget. They forget the fact that Claire's been through so much, and that even without visible scars, everything's left its mark on her one way or another, deeper even than the bone. She'd also wish for her dad to arrive, for Peter to be alive. So many things that it almost hurts that Chris can't think of a single one, even if she isn't sure if that's because he doesn't want for much, or if he's just too afraid to ask for it at all.

Her smile falters a little; she can't help it.

"Um," she pauses, licking her lips. "I don't know. What do you want most? What do you want that you don't... already have? Like, I mean. Maybe bringing someone here from home." Suddenly, her stomach's twisting into knots as Claire's fingers shake just a little, trying her best not to move the cupcake too much or risk extinguishing the flame.

Maybe she'd even wish for that, too. For Chris' girlfriend to make it to the island. He deserves to be that level of happy.

[noonelaughed]

It's not that Chris can't think of anything to wish for; there are loads of things, but it's not like it'd make any difference. He could wish that Peter'd never died, that his mum and dad had never left him. He could wish that he wasn't such a fuck up or that he'd never died back home. He could even wish for Jal to show up, or that he hadn't nearly fucked up her life the same way he'd fucked up his.

But Chris has spent most of his life wishing, hiding in the duvet wishing things were different, and it's never worked. Things outside the duvet never changed there, and they wouldn't on the island either.

Fuck wishes.

Chris shakes his head then, looking up from the lit candle.

"D'you know what? You can take my wish," he says, "They never come true for me, anyway."

[lucked]

Claire knows that she's missing a lot of the details. Chris has told her a fair bit about his life, bits and pieces, but most of it's always been about the amazing people that he knows. About how Cassie's hair looks like spun gold, about how his friends are kind of like this little patchwork family of sorts, just small remarks here and there that Claire's managed to collect. But there are things that Chris doesn't talk about, either, and hurt seems to compose most of that. The guilt is crushing, as soon as he offers off the wish to her, and Claire turns to slowly lower the cupcake onto the table, feeling like she can't breathe. No, that's not right. She isn't breathing. Her lungs are crying for air, her head feels light, but instead she's slowly placing the cupcake on the table, wincing every time the flame on the candle threatens to blow out, like it'll end up taking Chris' wish with it.

She manages to set it on the table without the flame dying away, and that's when she quickly rushes toward Chris, her arms wrapping fiercely around his shoulders in a hug. "I'm sorry," she says first, muffled against his shirt. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I don't know why I said that, I-"

When she leans back, her eyes are watering and the tears are just burning at the corners of her eyes, waiting to spill over. "Look, that's not true, okay? Your wishes will come true. I know they will. They have to."

[noonelaughed]

"Don't worry about it," Chris says, and he hugs her back, though it's more because he thinks she needs it than because he does. His life has always been shit, except for that small bit of time that he had Jal, so really now, everything's gone back to status quo. He's made his peace with it. Though, there's the lucky break at him being alive now instead of dead, so he supposes it can't always be shit.

He realizes then that he can only hug Claire for so long, because now he's caught the scent of her hair and something that smells like perfume or something, and he wants to kiss her again. Only, the last time that happened, it'd fucked everything up. So instead, he pulls away, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head for a moment as the hair there ends up even more mussed than it was before.

"Hey look, it's a party. We should be having fun, yeah? Not... not worrying about all this."

[lucked]

Maybe this is the excuse Claire's needed to just... leave. Leave the party, because even if she's been able to bring some amount of happiness to Chris before, she's clearly fucked everything up tonight, and staying will probably just leave her as an unpleasant reminder of hurtful memories and thoughts. It's why Claire doesn't really protest when he pulls away, finds herself struck silent by the look on his face. She's sorry. She's so sorry. Only she can't even bring herself to say that.

Her hands smooth down her skirt, an awkward grin trying to make its way onto her face. He's right. They should be having fun. He, at least, should be having fun, and Claire casts her gaze to the ground, a hand rubbing up her upper arm as though to restore warmth.

"Yeah," she agrees. "Okay. I'm... right, not worrying about this."

[noonelaughed]

The candle's still burning. Somewhere, on the table where Chris doesn't want to look at it, the candle in the cupcake is still going somehow and he wonders whether or not one of them should blow it out. It seems like a waste, it does, even if he doesn't really believe in wishes like that anymore.

"Yeah? Brilliant," he replies, and though the room's still moving and he wonders how Claire's hair got to be so bright and shiny. It's gorgeous and he wants to touch it, but he keep his hands to himself instead.

"Can I-- d'you want somethin' to drink or... there's plenty."

[lucked]

There's a flicker of light in Claire's peripheral vision. She knows what it is, of course. And in the back of her mind, she can't help but think that someone needs to burn it out. That it can't just be allowed to work away at the wax until it extinguishes itself, a lost wish, broken. Maybe if he turns away, she can lean quickly, blow it out. She knows what she wants to wish for, anyway. Just for his happiness. Not the sort of fleeting sentiment that comes from being deliriously 'fucked,' as they put it, for a night. But something more lasting. Something that makes him want to believe in wishes again, or miracles, or that he can have a good life at all.

It seems almost silly, that she'd be using a wish on a guy she's only known for months, but everything else is a bit far from her mind right now. She can't even leave, not when apparently, Chris still even wants her around for the night. The heel of her shoe grinds against the ground, all in an effort to quell the unease.

"Do you have anything nonalcoholic?" she asks, biting her lip.

[noonelaughed]

"Yeah. Yeah, there's water," Chris replies, glad at least that it looks like she'll stay on a bit. Through the haze, even he can tell that she's not as far gone as he is; she's blurring a bit in his vision, but Claire's seems steady on her feet. She'd been able to light the candle, after all, and it'd taken Chris three tries to get his last spliff going.

"Wait here a second, yeah? I'll go grab some."

And he's off through the crowd to go fetch some for her.

[lucked]

It takes longer than Claire would like, to figure out whether or not she should stay as asked. On one hand, the wording of his request makes it clear that her feet need to stay rooted. It isn't like he's just waved her off in the direction of water; he's told her to stay, he's going to probably fetch her a glass. But on the other, sometimes it's easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, and in this case it'd mean that leaving, apologizing for it later, making up excuses, that'd be easier than having to look him in the eye and say that she wants to leave. In the end, Chris weighs out. What Chris wants, it almost always weighs out. So she leans against one of the larger stalagmites in the cave, her back pressed against stone, as she cants her head and wonders if he'll make it back at all. He seemed a little far gone.

While he's away, her eyes also linger on the cupcake. Licking her lower lip, she rushes forward, closing her eyes, making one of the mistakes Aladdin should have taught her better about. That wishing for more wishes isn't the way to go about it, but Claire can't read Chris' mind, wouldn't even want to do him the disservice of trying. She puffs out the flame with a breath of air, then rushes back to her previous spot, the back of her hand rubbing at the corners of her eyes.